Gretchen’s Game: Part I

Gretchen wrapped her knees around the soldier’s hips and straddled him before reaching behind her ass to guide his cock inside her primed and ready squeeze box. Running her fingers along the throbbing, veiny appendage, she trailed her fingertips up until she found the spongy head with the diamond hard point right at its tiny eyelet. Using more force than required, she pushed the purple crown past her lips then leaned her bodyweight into the stem, forcing it into her vaginal canal before flexing her hips and thighs to plunge the head deeper before withdrawing just enough to ensure escape from the flexing tube was impossible. Penetrated and riding, she looked around the bed in search of her favorite prop.

“Where’s your fuckin’ hat?” she demanded to the young soldier as she bounced on his cock.

“Cover,” he panted.

“Fine, where’s your fuckin’ cover?”

He reached alongside the bed and snatched the camouflage material and handed it to the naked, teen he picked up after her shift working the bar at Applebee’s the previous night.

“Yee-haw!” she wailed, pantomiming a rodeo, waving the soldiers thin hat in the air. With the other hand she cruelly clawed at his skin which enthralled the young man intensely.

“Oh! I’m gonna cum!” the man grunted.

“Buss in me!” the rodeo rider called back.

“HARRR-UUGGHH!!” the soldier groaned.

“WOOOO!” the cowgirl belted.

A moment later, she leapt off the cock, cupped her vagina and waddled to the door without bothering to put anything on. Flinging the egress open with her free hand, the other side revealed Gretchen’s mother, Cynthia, smoking in the tiny living room. The pair lived together in the garish cinderblock two bedroom walk-up with thin interior walls that left the catchpenny abode completely bereft of privacy. The place was a shabby affair across the street from a gas station that wafted the odor of fuel throughout the entire building.

The thirty-six year old single mother was wearing a tight-fitting tank top that showed she still had a figure that sported a waistline and very respectable cleavage. She had been lounging in billowing pyjama pants that clung tightly in some spots but drooped in others while showing off the thin band of her black thong that matched a her ridiculously fuzzy slippers. She had been trying to catch up on her favorite show, but, unfortunately, her daughter had woken up and decided to put the lug she brough home from her bartending shift back to work on the other side of the drywall. After passing through the narrow door jam, Gretchen passed Cynthia without a word or a look on her way to deposit the young man’s captured seed in the bubble gum pink tiled bathroom that was in dire need of a good scrubbing. Cynthia, barely raising an eye to her naked progeny, rose from the laundry covered sofa and walked into her daughter’s room to gaze upon the naked man, lounging in her bed.

“Good morning,” Cynthia warmly greeted, lighting another cigarette as she looked down on the satisfied exposure of her daughter’s plebian Romeo.

“Oh! Hey! Umm… you Gretchen’s roommate?” the man stumbled while covering himself with the bedsheets.

“Roommate? No… why did ya cover up? You hiding something over there?” she smiled.

“Oh… it’s just… well… I didn’t…,” he stammered.

“Lemme see what you’re workin’ with!” she replied, pointing to the mess of bedsheets the man had balled up over his extremities.

“Umm… yeah… well…”

“Don’t be gross, Cynthia!” Gretchen yelled from the other side of the bathroom door in the tiny apartment.

Cynthia ignored her.

“You don’t come off as the shy type… let’s have a look,” she grinned.

Feeling emboldened, the young man pulled off the sheets and displayed the penis that had just ejaculated inside of Gretchen who was busy sitting on the only toilet attempting to drip out the man’s deposit. His penis was still in a post-ejaculation state where it held a modicum of rigidity but certainly lacked the tension to properly be put to use. Regardless, the man, determined to make a good showing of himself, began efforts to rectify his quaggy manhood by stroking himself with urgency while furrowing his brow in concentration.

Cynthia watched the young man with great interest as it never failed to surprise her the lengths a man would go to on behalf of his own penis. It was almost a misnomer to call the young masturbater a man since he was probably about the same age as her daughter; nineteen at the oldest. His body was well toned from the recent months spent on base exercising in the Arizona heat while being berated by men with more impressive patches on their sleeves. He had a handsome, boyish face with the attractive but dull eyes of a man who probably couldn’t be of much use beyond raising a flagpole for a woman to fly her fancy. Recalling from last night, the pair came home drunk and began their penetrative dalliance on Cynthia’s aging couch before advancing into the girl’s slovenly appointed bedroom; a veritable ocean of errant lingerie and dishware smeared with dried ketchup.

Cynthia leaned closer to thoughtfully inspect the young man’s progress.

“Well… I guess you could call that a dick,” Cynthia sneered, narrowing her eyes at the young soldier’s partial erection before taking a deep drag.

The well sharpened jab couldn’t break the man’s concentration. He grunted and doubled his efforts as Gretchen emerged, still naked, out of the bathroom having finished her cathartic ablutions.

“You can go now!” Gretchen commanded the leafless man, stroking his penis for an audience that just doubled.  

“Well… I was thinking we could do round three with your roommate here… I think she likes what she sees!”

“I told you, I’m not Gretchen’s roommate… I’m her mother… and I don’t get wet for baby dicks on the hairless bodies of pogs who never got outside the wire,” Cynthia grinned.

The young man immediately stopped fondling himself and made a confused, disappointed face, as if he were a dog who had been tricked by someone pretending to throw a ball. Then the man unceremoniously stood up and began rummaging through the piles of clothes in Gretchen’s room in search of his fatigues.

Cynthia used the hand containing her lighter to shield her eyes when he bent over, brandishing his hairy asshole for the two women while he scooping up his military issued wardrobe.

“I’ll see you at the Bee?” he said to Gretchen as he finished buttoning his fatigues.

“Sure baby, I’ll see you there.”

“What about after?” he smiled

“Not tonight… I need to let you rest and get your strength back up,” she mocked.

The man shrugged then fondled Gretchen’s bare breast in a classless manner, right in front of the woman who informed him she was her mother, as he walked out the apartment to head down the narrow flight of stairs and jump into his new mid-range Mustang recently purchased with the money saved during basic training.

With the man gone, Gretchen began digging in the mountain of laundry in order to find something to cover herself.

“Why is your suitcase packed?” Cynthia shot at Gretchen noticing the upright bag, filled with haphazardly stuffed clothes far too close to the door to be a coincidence.

“Goin’ on a trip.”

“Are you doin’ that job with Cody?”

“No.”

“You fuckin’ liar!” Cynthia shrieked.

“Nobody can tell me what I can or can’t do, Cynthia!” Gretchen shrieked at her mother as she stuffed her breasts into a push-up bra then began hunting for her work shirt that was purposefully too small. Now, fully dressed for work, she shoved past her mother and dragged the heavy suitcase through the living room.

“You got more shit in that suitcase than you can carry… you fuckin’ even comin’ back?”

“Why you gotta be such a bitch!” Gretchen cursed.

“I told you not to get mixed up with those bastards! So you’re just going to do a job with Cody then leave town? I need you to help pay rent! You are fucking me over! You are so selfish!”

“Not my job to pay your rent, bitch, if I don’t live here anymore!”

“This is NOT how to live your life, Gretchen! You don’t abandon your mother!”

“This is how I live my best life!” she shot back.

“Ya know he’s a liar! He’s gonna fuck you over!” Cynthia grumbled in a knowing tone.  

Gretchen stopped dragging the suitcase for a moment and pondered what her mother had just told her. She knew Cynthia was right.

“So, what’s he gonna do?”

“You ain’t part of his crew… and you’re never gonna be… you’re a prop in his game. He’s gonna use you then leave you high and dry. Remember that!”

“He’s fuckin’ stupid,” Gretchen cursed.

“Dumb as they get… you don’t go to prison if you’re good at stealin,” Cynthia added.

“Imma call you later on so don’t get too wasted, ok?” Gretchen asked, toning down her volume, then pushed the door open and bounced her suitcase down the stairs.  

“I love you,” her mother called after her.

“Love you too,” Gretchen replied.

Outside the house was an aging Toyota sedan with three girls inside. One jumped out of the passenger seat and ran over to help Gretchen with bag.

“Yeah, Gretch!”

“You know it, bitch!” she screamed back.

There was no room in the bulging trunk so the bag was thrown on the seat and Gretchen climbed on top of it. Gretchen had turned nineteen a few weeks earlier and she was bored. She had graduated from high school a year earlier by the smallest of margins. It wasn’t that Gretchen wasn’t a smart girl, her wits were quick and she had a sharp tongue. Gretchen’s poor marks were a result of her constant acting out and refusal to make any effort whatsoever.

The school had a child psychiatrist on staff and, in order to overturn a suspension, Gretchen spent an agonizing handful of hours in a chair facing the bubbly thirty-something woman who was genuinely trying to make a difference.

“Why don’t you feel that the rules apply to you, Gretchen?” she had asked, trying to draw out the root cause of her bad behavior.

“I don’t know… why do you keep eatin’ when a normal person would stop?” she shot back at the very healthy sized woman in a bargain-basement pantsuit.

“There it is… acting out is your default. Can we talk about your Dad?”

Gretchen’s father had been sent to prison when she was four. He was an accountant at a local manufacturing company who had been embezzling money and covering it up for years. When he finally was caught, a forensic accountant had determined the man had stolen nearly three-hundred thousand dollars. He had been using the money to conceal a drug habit. Looking back, Gretchen’s mother almost certainly knew, and was probably partaking with him. He was sentenced to only four years, mostly because as Gretchen’s mother had brought the young girl to the sentencing to beg for the judges mercy. Two months into his prison term he died of an overdose. Recent drug busts at the prison had forced the dealers to put trace amounts of rat poison in their product to edge up the wanning potency and ended up killing a few of the junkies who were their regular customers. The guards took Gretchen’s father to the prison morgue with as much fanfare as a hefty bag, filled with rubbish, destined for the incinerator.

“No, I don’t want to talk about my loser father,” Gretchen told the woman, coldly.

Over the years, Gretchen’s mother had dated numerous men. Cynthia was a beautiful woman, albeit nearing the end of her youth, but exclusively picked the kind of guy who only a rebellious teenager would think was a catch. They were handsome, easy going guys who liked to have a good time and were sometimes prone to violence. The kind of guys who always had a genius plan to make their way through life without putting in the work, even though they never had the brains to pull of their half-cocked ideas. She never went for a guy with any stability.

“Do they send you a newsletter with the names of every fuck-up who just got released from jail so you know whose dick to suck?” Cynthia’s own mother had asked her after a particularly toxic relationship ended with the man wearing an orange jumpsuit.

“I hope not because that list would also have every man you were with too, including daddy!” Cynthia snapped back.

“Grandpa’s in prison? I thought he was an explorer!” the young girl piped up.

“Only thing that man ever explored was houses where he didn’t live… lookin’ for TVs to steal and the skanks to stick his dick into,” Gretchen’s grandmother muttered under her breath.

The cycle of poor decisions and unreliable men continued with young Gretchen.

“Why can’t you find a nice guy, maybe an accountant… like daddy was!” ten year old Gretchen screeched at her mother after her most recent beau had left her with an empty checking account, overdue bills, and a painful shiner.

“Your father was not a nice guy… he wasn’t even an accountant. He read a book and figured it out so he could rip those people off!”

It had been a tough childhood for Gretchen. At fourteen her mother had taken Gretchen to get her first abortion. The unfortunate event would happen two more times before the girl was old enough to go to the clinic herself.

“Who knocked you up?” Cynthia snarled at her daughter.

“Travis, he’s my boyfriend,” Gretchen admitted.

“Travis! Cody, MY boyfriend’s NEPHEW, Travis?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s fuckin’ like twenty-three! He just got out the Marines! And he’s fucking you?”

“We’re in love and I want to have this baby!”

“Imma kill both of them!” Cynthia growled. “But first, we’re killing that baby before it’s born like I should have done with you, little skank!”

Gretchen bawled miserably for days afterwards. Not only was the baby gone, but Travis was beaten to a pulp by his uncle Cody and a few of the men his uncle ran guns and drugs with after being released from his latest stint in prison. The next day, Cody came by the cheap apartment where Gretchen lived with her mother and fucked Cynthia loudly while the sullen girl sat on the couch with a thin wall between her ears and her mother’s shameful moaning as she got brutally pounded.

“You’re a filthy whore, just like your daughter!” Cody growled, very audibly through the wall.

“Yes!” Cynthia screamed.

“That little slut you birthed let my nephew nut in her! Now Imma nut in you too!”

“Yes! Yes! Cum in me!”

“Are you my little cum slut?”

“I’m your cum slut!” Cynthia bleated.  

Poor Gretchen couldn’t help but listen to the entire atrocity happening on the other side of the drywall. After the defilement was complete, wearing only his stained white briefs, Cody pushed through the bedroom door into the living room in search of a cold beer in the fridge. When the door opened, Gretchen could smell the sticky-sweet pungent odor of sex wafting past the couch. Cody purposefully looked down on Gretchen, sitting on the couch by the bedroom door. He knew full well she was home and there was not a single square inch of that apartment that was not treated to her mother’s heartbreakingly depraved caterwauling.

“Why did you kick the shit out of Travis! If he did someone so wrong, then why not just call the fuckin’ police!” Gretchen screeched to the shirtless, sweaty man who reeked of her mother’s pussy.

“You never call the police, little girl. You take care of your own. Don’t need nobody else to interfere with what goes on! Especially when it comes to family.”

“Did you hurt him bad?”

“Yup.”

“You’re a piece of shit!” Gretchen cursed.

“Maybe… but when you get older, you’ll see that I was right. And one more thing… if you, or your bitch of a mother, had called the police and sent my nephew to prison for fucking your little jail-bait ass then ida kicked the shit out of you until you weren’t pretty no more… your momma too!”

Gretchen glared at the large sweating man wearing Haines.

“You understand me?” he grumbled.

Gretchen sat defiantly, her face screwed up in a challenging scowl.

“Do you understand me!” he yelled.

SMACK!

With the back of his hand, Cody struck the teenager hard across the face. The impact shocked the girl and knocked her almost completely off the couch. When she gained her bearing, Gretchen looked up and saw her mother in the doorway wearing only a t-shirt with her lip split and a very swollen cheek that matched her daughter’s.

“Momma!” Gretchen wailed.

“Do what your uncle Cody says,” Cynthia breathed, then walked into the kitchenette and threw a scoop of butter into a frying pan then began rummaging in the refrigerator to cook a meal that was certainly only for Cody.

“Are you forgetting something?” Cody grumbled.

Without a word, Cynthia scurried over to him with an unopened can of beer.

The large man strode across the tiny living room and sat menacingly close the Gretchen on the couch, scooped up the remote, and began changing channels. Gretchen stopped weeping and busied herself hardening her heart against the awful oppression that was the men in her and her mother’s life. She hated Cody but now, with her cheek smarting, she began to hate Travis and how he was too much of a coward to fight for her.

Five years later, Gretchen was speeding off with three of her friends to Applebee’s where they all bartended and waitressed. Olivia and Gretchen both worked behind the bar and always made a killing in tips. It was Thursday night and Applebee’s was one of the only spots in town that served both beer and hard liquor. Not far down the street was Ft. Huchuca, a military base where advanced ranger training took place along with numerous other departments focused on intelligence gathering and scientific research. When they weren’t on duty, officers and enlisted alike all piled into Applebee’s and there was never a seat empty. Tonight was a particularly full house.

Gretchen was a natural blonde who recently had taken to dying her hair a shimmering silvery purple. The most prominent feature of her face were the sharp, high cheekbones and dazzlingly bewitching blue eyes. She looked like the living manifestation of a boardwalk caricature of teenaged Jodi Foster; exaggerated beauty. She was terrifyingly skinny despite living on french fries and beer. The girl seemed to buzz around all day with immense energy and people often thought she was on drugs, which was completely false. Her aversion to drugs started when she was sixteen and had taken to smoking crystal meth with a group of her delinquent friends which included several of the current staff working with her at the chain restaurant.

“You smell like you’ve been smoking meth,” Cynthia had said when she walked in the door.

“Meth? No!” Gretchen denied.

“Yup, meth. Your daddy looooved smoking meth. Loved. Loved. Loved.”

Upon hearing that, Gretchen never did a drug ever again.   

The night at Applebee’s progressed as any other big Thursday with a game on and two young girls pulling at the tap.

“Gretchen, I think I love you! If I get deployed to Hawaii, will you come with me?”

“Well, I just don’t know… I don’t think you know how to make me come?”

“OH! WHOA!” the soldiers on either side of the man whooped and laughed.

“Olivia! Can I have two frozen margaritas?”

“Two Budweiser’s, coming up! If you want a fruity frozen drink, drive one of the sixteen Dodge Chargers we got in the parking lot ninety miles to Nogales!” Olivia teased, before snapping the blender on.

Over the last year, between Gretchen and Olivia, had slept with dozens of the customers each, sampling from the smorgasbord of men in peak physical condition who had no ability to offer any kind of commitment due to their uncertain stationing.   

“Round of shots for my eskimo brothers!” had been a running joke at the bar for some time where the collection of various enlisted men who had managed to penetrate the tap pulling girls would celebrate that fact with a drink.

The owner of the Applebee’s, Kal, had shown real foresight when he bought up the plot of land and then plunked down the considerable sum to Dine Brands to own the franchise. The city counsel of Sierra Vista had gone to great lengths to keep bars out of the town to ensure a seedy element didn’t glom on to the town and it’s coveted military base.

“Applebee’s is a fine family restaurant that you’ll be happy bringing your kids to celebrate winning a little league game! Sure Applebee’s serves alcohol to its adult customers but look at the kids menu! They don’t have a laminated kids menu at a bar, I can guarantee you that!” he had pledged to the city council who was also tired of having so few restaurants to patronize.

To ensure his business venture would be a success, Kal teamed up with his long time buddy, none other than Cynthia’s on again, off again, ex-con boyfriend, Cody who enlisted Gretchen and her friends to tend bar.

“Cody, I don’t just want pretty girls, I want young and skanky… kind of girl who smokes and puts out… keep the guys from the base comin’ back every night… and they gotta be cool with the scam, understand?”

“I got the perfect girl…,” Cody smirked.

The spring before graduating high school, the girls were working nearly full-time and pulling in a huge haul in tips while running a dozen scams at the same time for Kal and Cody.

As soon as the restaurant launched it was a hit, especially with the targeted demographic of bored soldiers stationed on the base in the middle of the desert. In addition to staffing the joint with his particular brand of high school girls, Kal also put an ATM machine in the lobby and gave a three percent discount for paying in cash. The ATM charged a huge fee, which Kal got a piece of, and half the time the boys in uniform were too drunk to understand that an eight dollar fee on pulling cash from the ATM didn’t cover the three percent discount.

With the cash on hand, Kal and Cody set up scams all over town to line their pockets.

“Kegs get damaged all the time… they get dropped, they spray beer all over the fuckin’ place… it’s just the nature of the business. Now, for half of what the keg woulda cost, I can make certain it’s always one of YOUR kegs that get busted… if you catch my drift,” the Budweiser driver smiled.

It was music to Cody’s ears. Every week he slipped the driver a few twenties and scooped up two perfectly fine kegs of Budweiser to serve to his patrons but always made certain to dent the steel drum before returning it so it could be written off as an accident before the beer ever even arrived at Applebee’s.

Along the side of the building, where there were no customer windows, Cody set up a massive smoking area that was always packed. He bought an old cigarette vending machine for next to nothing because they were illegal to operate and placed it just inside the kitchen so the men on the base could grab a pack when they ran out for only a buck or two more than the gas station charged. Cody would buy cartons of smuggled cigarettes without a tax stamp from Nogales at half the price.

“Soldiers love to smoke!” Kal bellowed, pulling the handle to buy an overpriced pack of Marlboro red’s off himself.

Every day before opening, Gretchen and her friends spent half an hour filling the bottles of Jack Daniels and Absolute with cheap generic brands to serve the customers.

“You want Jack or this well shit, hon?” Gretchen would ask while already picking up the pricier bottle while making a pouty face.

“Jack!” the men would invariably shout.

All the pint glasses were an ounce light. If someone bought a round for their buddies, Gretchen would demand a shot too, then pour herself a fake shot and charge accordingly. The girls would identify drunks with fat wallets and heave extra charges on their bill or subtly add an eighteen perfect gratuity then sweetly remind the intoxicated fool to tip in cash.

Everything had been going well until the marriage between Kal and Cody began to sour. Kal had fronted all of the money, bought the land, bought the franchise, and paid for the liquor license. Once the operation was up and running, he began taking a bit of a laid back approach, leaving Cody to run the day to day operations. This had been fine for a few months until Cody began to get the impression he was doing all of the work and Kal, in very poor taste, started running his mouth telling people he was Cody’s boss.

“You’ve got a record! You’re not on the books for anything! Not ownership. Not as a bus boy!” Kal defended.

“You ungrateful mutt! How ‘bout you get up at five in the morning to meet the beer guy? How ‘bout you meet the cigarette guy behind the Circle K? How ‘bout you make sure the girls, that I hired, are stealing from the customers, not us?”

“You can go back to runnin’ drugs if you like?” Kal shot back.

Cody went away grumbling and decided that Kal was going to run into some unexpected business expenses.

“Gretchen, Olivia, get your skinny asses over here!” Cody had demanded, the previous day.

“What?” the girls replied, walking over to the manager who also fucked Gretchen’s mother.

“You like workin’ here?”

“It’s ok,” Gretchen agreed.

“You think you could do this somewhere else and make just as much money?”

“Probably.”

“You know that for every buck you make, you’re puttin’ ten in Kal’s pocket, though, right?”

“I mean, yeah,” the girls agreed.

“This place was an empty lot before you got behind the bar… you think he’d be rich if you weren’t workin’ your asses off?”
“Cody… I’m not Cynthia… you don’t need to butter me up … now if you’re pitchin’ me a job, let’s hear it… otherwise, I’ve got glasses to fill!” Gretchen slung.

Cody smiled, knowing he could count on Gretchen to clue in fast.

“Kal’s gonna be here tomorrow night to pick up the cash from the drop safe. It’s gonna be packed full because, just like every day, the credit card machine is gonna be down so everybody’s gotta pay cash… Il had the guy load the ATM machine up this morning. He’s got the only key in his fuckin’ ring to the drop safe. He keeps that fuckin’ ring on him like it’s his Vi-agera. Now, I’m gonna fuck with one of the top steps to the stairs down to the basement. I’ll put the little piece of carpet back on it, but when he steps on it the fucker is gonna break and he’s gonna take a spill… a bad spill. Gretchen, when you’re helpin’ him, get the keys and pass them to me. Olivia, you stay with him every minute and keep him focused on his broken ass. I’ll empty the drop box and we’ll all meet up in the parking lot of Home Depot and give you two half, make sense?”

“Perfect sense… what time are you thinking?”

“I’ve already got false step… it’s braced for now but I’ll unbrace it at eleven o’clock… just at closing,” Cody winked then went back to the kitchen to finish whatever he was doing.

“This is a stupid fuckin’ plan, Gretch,” Olivia scoffed as soon as Cody was out of earshot.

“That’s not the plan… I’ve known this guy since I was a kid and he never gave anyone anything…. Stealing the drop box is gonna be some cash but not a ton and Kal will figure it out when he gets out of the hospital,” Gretchen replied.

“So what’s the real plan?”

“Kal’s been ripping this place off for a year and he can’t put that cash in the bank or nothin… it’s gotta be at his house and as soon as we give Cody the keys, he’s gonna leave us to go there!”

“Thought he was a crook… can’t he just break into Kal’s house or rob him there?”

“We’ve both been to Kal’s house… fucker has a steel door and a bunch of professional shit… yup… the money’s in a safe in the house… what’s in the drop box is peanuts!”

“So what do we do?” Olivia asked.

Gretchen smiled.

The night of the robbery, the bar was operating like clockwork. An hour before closing,  Olivia took a new pack of cigarettes and crushed it up then crammed it inside the vending machine blocking all new packs from being born out of the metal birthing canal. Thanks to her thin wrist and small hands, she was able to stuff the pack up quite high into the machines guts in a manner that the meaty hands of the nicotine addicted soldiers could not rectify.

“Can you fix the vending machine? It’s not giving the boys their smokes!” Olivia called over to Cody who went into the kitchen and set to work diagnosing and fixing the problem.

With Cody preoccupied, Gretchen saw Kal hobnobbing with some of the customers. Kal had always drooled over Gretchen and she was painfully aware of that fact.   

“Boss… umm… I need help changing a keg… can you?”
“Get Derek to do it!” Kal shot back, illuding to one of the bar backs.

Then, Gretchen snuck up behind him and whispered in his ear, “…please….”

Not needing another hint, the man followed the teenaged bartender down the stairs.

Kal was an ugly man, overweight with tremendous pock-marks on his face. For a reason not founded in facts, he had always assumed his success would negate his poor looks and manners in the eyes of  beautiful women. To his immense surprise, they were incredibly swift to pass on his overt sexual advances. None of this deterred him. On a dozen occasions he had sexually harassed Gretchen, even gone as far as to slap her round, perky ass which landed her sharp right hand across the minefield of divets on his surprised face.

“Which… umm… which keg is acting up?” he stammered, believing Gretchen had finally realized he was one of the more successful ugly blokes in a sea of attractive young military men.

“This one!” and, without another word, Gretchen dropped to her knees and unzipped Kal’s fly, pulled out his flaccid cock, and began sucking.

Fucking tastes like piss and sweaty balls! Gretchen whined in her head as Kal began grunting while his cock inflated.

Gretchen pulled the man’s pants down to his ankles and only used her mouth to suck on his disgusting penis. The room was dimly lit and the noise upstairs was omnipresent. Naturally, the man had no idea the girl was lifting his keyring out of his pants and replacing the ring with one she had pieced together with random keys left behind by drunk patrons.

“Doesn’t have to be perfect… just feel right in his pocket for twenty or thirty minutes,” Gretchen had explained to Olivia.

With the fake keyring in place, Gretchen needed Kal to finish before Cody was able to open the cigarette machine and discover the blockage. She cupped his sweaty balls with one hand and began stroking his shaft with the other. The man had a tremendous amount of springy pubes and Gretchen could already feel there was at least one or two stragglers in her mouth. Resisting the urge to puke, she sped up her efforts and the overweight bar owner quickly reached his moment of pleasure.

“WHAAA… OOOOHHH!” he grunted and began bucking his hips as he pumped fishy tasting semen into the teenager’s mouth.

Gretchen slowed her suckling and held the tip in her mouth until the pulsing finished. She then spat the load of cum into the bar towel hanging out of her belt. Upon seeing there was still a fat drop of semen, dangling precariously from Kal’s trembling penis, she summoned her inner strength and used her tongue to transfer the final strand to the bar towel, as if giving her foul boss oral sex was something she enjoyed.

“That was just what the doctor ordered!” Kal cheered to the kneeling, purple-haired cock-sucker.

“Glad you loved it!” Gretchen lied.

“Now you get your ass back to work… but I’m gunna wanna see that ass later… maybe spread out on my king-sized water bed!” Kal crowed while shimming his pants up his legs.

“Oh yeah?” Gretchen encouraged, trying not to cringle.

“Oh yeah!” Kal hollered, smiling then slapped the girl’s ass before walking up the stairs.

Gretchen followed him and, thankfully, Cody was still nowhere to be seen.

“Olivia, Cody still in the back?”

“Yeah, he had to take the thing half apart!” Olivia giggled.

“Take the keys to my mom… she’s out in the parking lot,” Gretchen whispered while discretely slipping the metal ring into her apron.

Olivia casually walked outside and went to the curb, far away from the other smokers, then threw her, presumably, empty pack into the trash after lighting a stick. After she finished her smoke, she walked back inside, expressionless. Just as she crossed back into the bar, a woman wearing a baseball hat hopped out of her car and grabbed the piece of trash placed at the top of the bin.

Minutes after Olivia returned, Gretchen informed the drunken patrons it was last call and the soldiers pressed the gas on their drinking before calling it a night. As the last patrons were leaving, Gretchen noticed Cody head down the stairs to the tap room for a few moments then casually emerge holding a length of tubing that appeared to have worn a crack.

As the girls went to work cleaning the bar, they paid no attention to Kal who excitedly headed to the stairs to grab the cash from the drop box.

CRASH!

A horrible sound of broken wood and calamity rang through the quiet restaurant.

“AHHHH!!” Kal screamed from the bottom of the stairs.

Rushing to see what happened, Gretchen saw the man, laying at the bottom of the stairs with his left leg twisted in a way that could only mean the bone was horrifically broken.

The majority of the stairs were intact, but it seemed his tumble was due to one step completely breaking through when the man put his weight onto it.

“HEELLP!” the man hollered.

Gretchen and Olivia both looked at the snapped bone and immediately began making noises as if they were vomiting.

“Git down there and help him!” Kal screamed to the choking girls.

“I… I can’t!” they both gasped between bouts of retching.

“Fuckin’ useless!” Kal hollered and clenched his fist as if he intended to punch either of them.

Like a true crook, Kal ambled down the stairs, careful to avoid the broken step, and talked soothingly to the man while seamlessly picking his pocket.

“Git down here!” Kal screamed.

The girls looked at each other and climbed down to hold the man’s hand while he screamed in agony. Moments later, the outside of the restaurant was lit up by the flashing red lights of a fire truck. It seem as if they arrived far quicker than one might have expected as if someone had called for them the instant the crash on the stairs was heard.

The firemen and EMT crew carried Kal up the stairs and into the back of an ambulance. The girls did their job and held the man’s hand and talked hysterically to the men in uniform. During the chaos, Cody seemed to have slipped off. As quickly as the event happened, Kal was off to the hospital and the emergency crew left with him leaving the girl’s alone.

“How far away is Kal’s house?” Olivia asked.

“It’s far… like thirty minutes.”

“We still gotta be quick!”

After Gretchen had lifted the key ring, she saved the one key for the drop box and opened the small safe up and pulled out the bag containing a few thousand dollars in cash. They quickly locked up the restaurant and drove to the nearby elementary school on Foothills drive. Waiting in the lot was Cynthia.

“You get it?” Gretchen called to Cynthia as she pulled up.

“Bedroom floor safe… took me three trips to haul it out,” Cynthia smiled.

“Cameras?”

“Not one… you know that dirty bastard didn’t want recordings of his shit.”

“And Cody?”

“I took the 90 to the 82 to get there… fastest way… but comin’ back I took the Canelo… didn’t want to pass him on the highway.”

“Where do you wanna go now?” Gretchen smiled.

“Anywhere but fuckin’ here!”

To be continued…

Author’s note: This is a chapter in an ongoing storyline chronicling Gretchen, a new character I’m experimenting with, and her adventures. If you enjoyed this chapter, I encourage you to go into the blog section and discover the other adventures of Diane, Shirley, Candy, and many others.

On a side note, to everyone who purchased “How Much is Candy”, on Kindle, I am so blown away by the response. It seems Candy is a hit and I’m very pleased so many people are reading the book on Kindle.

Hope you enjoyed!

-Jack

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